Happy Camper
by money.c
Summary: When Danny's parents cart him off to ghost hunting camp over the summer, unsurprisingly he isn't too impressed. With a bunch of ghost-crazy teenagers out for blood, it's only a matter of time before someone discovers there's a Phantom in the mix.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I had a moment of reflection and nostalgia last week, when I rediscovered my FanFiction account from over ten years ago, full of stories I wrote when I was eleven. For the purposes of revisiting the hobby of writing, for myself and not necessarily anyone else, i've decided to revisit some of my previous ideas as an adult. I'm not sure if disclaimers are still necessary, but for the sake of old times; I don't own Danny Phantom.

* * *

Usually, the first morning of spring break is one of liberation. A morning of freedom, full of promise for the good times ahead.

Unfortunately, my morning hadn't gone exactly to plan.

My plan for the day had constituted an excessive sleep in, a breakfast of leftover pizza and hopefully a ghost-free afternoon spent playing video games until my tired eyes drooped at my keyboard.

It became apparent that this wasn't going to happen at 6:55am, when my over-excited father bounded into my bedroom, my adoring mum in tow. He flicked the light on and exclaimed loudly;

"Danny! Wake up, your mother and I have some very, _very_ exciting news!"

I groaned deeply and rolled over, taking the covers with me. It was much too early to humour Dad by listening apathetically about some new prototype.

"You're going to ghost camp!"

Alarm bells went off immediately in my head. My eyes flashed open in an instant, but I remained still. I hoped my panic hadn't flickered across my face.

"What? No I'm not. Let me go back to sleep," I had tried my hardest to sound disinterested, but I'm not sure it was too convincing.

A smile had snuck across Mum's face as she sat on the edge of my cramped bed. She softly placed her hand on my shoulder, and I couldn't help but flinch at her foreign touch.

"Honey, we thought so too. But when we found so many Fenton Thermoses in your room we couldn't help but wonder maybe you had finally taken an interest in our profession. And then last week I found two of our missing ecto-blasters in the boot of your car. We were so proud sweetie, we just had to sign you up, it's an extremely competitive program. You'll learn a lot!" Maddie practically squealed with delight.

For the two hours that followed, I protested. _A lot._

What kind of parents send their almost-adult, 17-year-old son to a camp? Let alone a ghost camp? My parents, obviously. What. A. _Joke._

But somehow, it hadn't been enough. Somehow nothing is ever enough to convince Jack out of a 'brilliant' idea when his heart is set on it. And of course, it wasn't like I could've raised my primary objection with my parents; as a half-ghost myself, a convention such as this isn't exactly my ideal holiday destination.

Despite my very best efforts at complaining like only a teenager can, my parents had still hauled me to Amity Park Central Station, where a large coach had been waiting. They'd packed my bags for me while I'd been out last night; ironically kicking Skulker's ass for the third time this week. They had wanted to keep it a surprise because they thought I'd be thrilled. Obviously they didn't know me as well as they thought; I hadn't spoken to them on the way in the van. For some reason they couldn't comprehend my objection. They rattled on, perpetuating their own excitement by reflecting on the times they spent at 'ghost camp' themselves.

It was going to be a dismal two weeks, most certainly not the break I had been anticipating.

* * *

For what felt like hours, I sat in a worn out coach seat, staring out of the window as the bus weaved haphazardly between cars on the freeway. I was fuming, not to mention a little apprehensive of the month ahead. Perhaps this had been conveyed to the other teens on the bus, because they'd kept their distance. I didn't have much interest in talking to anyone with any business going on a 'ghost camp'. I'm pretty sure some kind of detection device was continually going off at the back of the bus but I paid it no attention.

I hadn't even been awake for two hours and already my vacation was ruined. To make matters worse, neither Tucker nor Sam were replying in their Facebook chat. There was no salvation in sight for at least another two hours when they would finally rise from their enviable sleep.

I looked down at my iPhone, refreshing messenger as many times as possible to no avail. Exasperated, I resolved to google what kind of torture I'd be submitted to over the coming two weeks.

 _Pleasant Valley Specter Centre, a place where young, promising ghost hunters can come together to hone in their abilities to protect our great nation from the dead that haunt our very being._

 _Set among the pines in the Nicolet National Forest, campers will learn how to use state-of-the art equipment from decorated international ghost hunter professionals in a fun and safe environment. Not only will campers undergo a world class training program, but they will also make life-long friends certain to assist in their ghost hunting endeavours of the future._

 _Parents and guardians can be reassured of the security of the venue, which features a ghost shield and 24/7 supervision of your teenagers._

I'd read enough. The inspirational marketing bullshit was enough to make me want to jump out of the window. I closed my eyes in a far-fetched attempt to fall asleep and avoid this spiralling situation entirely.

It was only two weeks. Surely I could handle two weeks of amateur teen ghost hunters. One of the girls on the bus barely could see over the seat in front of her. I'd just lie low and avoid any kind of attention.

With that thought, I had somehow drifted off into a restless slumber, my head resting against the reverberating window of the coach.

At the next pick-up town, I was awoken by an undesirable electronic screech.

My eyes flickered open to see a guy, who must've just boarded the bus, standing on top of me, shoulders squared. He had dirty blonde hair that had been swept back into a rough bun, and was menacingly tall. I took note of the fact I shouldn't stand up to confront him, I'd just be looking him in the mouth. In his hand he held a metal device; the source of the abrasive beeping. His suspicious eyes scanned me up and down, evaluating me as I pushed up against the window even further. It took me a few seconds to process what his problem was.

 _Oh yeah. Ghost camp. Me, ghost. I'm a ghost. Shit._

"I'm sorry, can I help you?"

"My scanner thinks you're a ghost." Silence. He didn't offer anything more. Straight to the point, no niceties. I thought everyone on these dumb camps tried to make their best impression on the first day.

"I'm great, thanks for asking! How are you?" I quipped. No response. I couldn't help but notice the bus was silent. I was certain that fifteen sets of eyes were watching on with baited breath. "Your scanner must be broken, I'm not a ghost. Sorry to disappoint."

Our eyes met for a moment, and challenge was evident within an instant. This bloke wasn't going to back down. I really wasn't looking to make any enemies, let alone on the bus _on the way_ to the camp.

"It's probably just picking up the remnants of some ecto-energy emitted from my parent's lab. The place is practically radioactive,"

"Yeah, probably," he muttered, his gaze not leaving my eyes. He flicked off the power switch on his contraption and the shrilling beeping sound cut off. He stalked off towards the back of the bus and dumped his duffle bag with a loud _clang_ of metal.

I took a mental note. That guy was both crazy and had a large amount of what I presumed to be ghost hunting equipment in his hand luggage. Who knew what else he'd brought. I also took a mental note of the fact I'd be setting off detectors all over the place at this damned camp. I would have to prepare a slew of excuses in my mind.

But really, I knew none of these kids were going to be a threat to me. Over the past three years, my control over my powers had grown exponentially. It sounds cocky, I know, but after daily challenges against ghost after ghost, it was bound to happen. There was a time in the past where I couldn't manage to eat lunch without my hands turning intangible, but now is the strongest I'd ever been. I'd grown a foot, I'd bulked out after what seemed like forever. The number of ghosts in Amity Park had been reducing drastically over the last six months as I'd generally be able to rough them around and have them in the thermos in a minute at the most. My ectoblast was now second-to-none. Only a few of the regulars bothered to come around to fight me anymore, and even then, they probably do so out of boredom. It was surprising to me that Skulker came back, week after week with a new suit ready for me to annihilate. Three years and counting, still no pelt on his wall.

Regardless, Dash still managed to 'accidentally' trip me in the hall, and there was only one ghost I was really afraid of. Myself.

After what seemed to be forever, I looked down at my phone to see Tucker had finally woken up. His message was full of sympathy.

"HAHAHA sucked in!"

With that, the bus turned down a gravel road off the side of the highway, pine trees extending to the blue skies. Ahead loomed a modern-looking camp facility, surrounded by a familiar green glow. A ghost shield. I sighed, exasperated. This could be either terrible…

Or really, really fun.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys!

The location of the camp was extremely tranquil; surrounded by tall pines, where nature abounded. There was a slow-running river flowing not far away and the indescribable scent of the great outdoors was ever-present – crisp and rejuvenating.

The serenity, of course, was provisional. You get the nature if you come for two weeks of ghost-crazy teens and subsequent social torture. Not a great trade off.

An instructor, who had introduced himself as Peter, had shepherded the campers off the bus and towards a large open field. He ushered the teens to take a seat on the worn logs. Some of them wriggled with excitement, after all, this was the trip they'd been waiting for their whole lives, while others looked physically ill. The tall boy from the bus sat motionless in the front, a female companion on his right. I, of course, slunk into the background, hoping to remain somewhat unnoticed. It would seem we were about to be thrust into our first task.

"Welcome, young hunters! We're so pleased to have you here at the Specter Centre, it'll be a great two weeks." Peter's smile was refreshingly genuine. "You're here amongst the very best, to learn how to best annihilate our common enemy – ghosts! I have to say, you guys are a stellar bunch on paper. So much potential here in one place, really it is going to be fantastic.

"But first, a few ground rules. Anyone found beyond the ghost shield will be reprimanded immediately. It is strictly forbidden. Secondly, no hunting equipment will be allowed in your rooms; it will be kept at a secure location for daytime use only. And finally, any violence or misconduct will not be tolerated. We're all on the same page? Good.

"So here's how this is gunna work. This entire experience is a competition. You'll earn points in rewards for good progress or success in the challenges, which will then subsequently rank you against your campmates. The better you do, the more advantages you'll be provided in the grand challenge at the end of your time here. They were going to scrap the competition and focus just on participation, but where's the fun in that? Where's the incentive?" Peter chuckled to himself.

"We're gunna assume you know nothing, so we'll be starting from absolute scratch. Nothing to worry about!"

I sighed internally. I knew these kids were really no match for my abilities. I'd have to play dumb. I'd have to play _fair._

"Now we're going to rank you initially based on pure ability and instinct. This is an easy challenge. All you have to do is avoid being caught for the longest. Essentially hide and seek, but with ectoguns. If you get zapped by the ectogun of the exercise leader, you're out. Last man, or woman, standing will start their time at camp on the top of the ladder"

This was going to be too easy. Three years of dodging his own parents hadn't gone astray for this exercise. Sure, the other teens probably weren't half bad themselves, but I really did have an unfair advantage. I could hear the sound of an ectogun firing up a block away.

As Peter walked off to summon the leader who was going to serve as the predator for this exercise, an excited chatter emerged. My solitude on the bus hadn't been very productive in making friends. In all honesty, I didn't really care too much. It was kind of nice to know that I could forget about Phantom for a little while – ironically at a ghost camp.

I turned to the guy beside me and made a half-attempt at a smile. What kind of ice-breaker do you use on these kind of occasions? "Lovely weather today?" or "so how long have you been hunting ghosts?" I don't think there's well-established etiquette rules in this area.

He beat me to it, obviously sensing the awkwardness that must've been plastered across my face.

"So how long have you been hunting ghosts?"

Ah. Option 2 it is.

"I haven't really done too much of it really, it's my parents who are the fanatics. I think they wanted to try and get me to follow in the family profession."

His friendly eyes smiled knowingly back at me.

"Oh man, I get it, I really do." His accent was definitely foreign. Australian perhaps? Maybe South African. I couldn't quite figure it out.

I opened my mouth as though to reply, but we were interrupted. I turned my head to the sound of a man clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, anticipating the presence of the instructor who'd be seeking us.

My mouth dropped even further open of its own accord. I almost fell off the log, my heart constricting in my chest for a few too many moments.

Standing in front of this budding young group of ghost hunters was none other than Vlad Masters.

Vlad.

Masters.

This fortnight just got exponentially worse. And my strategy to lie low just went out the window.

A smirk creeped across his face, his evil eyes boring directly into mine. It was the unmistakable face of a man who had won, the face of a man who was immensely proud of himself. It was as though I could read his mind. He didn't even have to say the words for me to imagine them slipping through his lips in my head.

 _"Hello dear Daniel. It would appear the two of us will be spending some quality time together over the next two weeks."_

My eyebrows furrowed in anger, my fists balling at the sight of him. My initial shock had been overcome by fury. How _dare_ he follow me here. I hadn't seen Masters in over a year, the last time we met I'd made him well aware of the fact that he was no longer welcome in my life, or my family's lives for that matter. The warning obviously had not been heeded. This unwelcome interlude was quite obviously premeditated.

"Hello young campers, I'll be playing the cat in this wonderful little game of cat and mouse we're playing today!" Vlad exclaimed with false warmth, "Now never you mind about this ectogun here, it won't harm _humans._ It'll latch on to any spectral energy and absolutely shock its brains out, but us humans, we'll be fine!" He chuckled and his gaze returned to my angry eyes.

"And while I know some of you are competent ghost hunters with the ability to stay out of trouble, there are others who I _know_ may not be quite so capable. So we'll make this a fair game and I'll give you a thirty-second head start. Get going."

The other teens scrambled, scattering in every direction as fast as their legs would carry them. I couldn't move, I was so consumed with rage. I could feel it bubbling up inside of me, and my eyes flashed a familiar, brilliant green.

Masters sauntered over to the place where I was sitting, his ectogun slung casually over his shoulder.

"Now young Daniel, you must learn to control your temper." His condescending tone dripped off every syllable.

"Piss off, Plasmius," I spat through gritted teeth.

"Ahem, Daniel, I believe it may be you who is required to, as you say, _piss off._ You've got ten seconds until this wonderful contraption puts you on the ground for the next thirty minutes. Wouldn't want to seem weak on your first day now would you?"

I held his eyes for a moment longer and decisively pushed past him, running across the field. I knew he wasn't going to pursue me first. He wanted to put on a show, to make a fool of me in front of the rest of the camp. He wanted revenge. He wanted me to look weak and insignificant. He wanted to assert his dominance over me now that I was forced to play as a human.

I'd just have to win. I couldn't afford to be zapped and writhing in pain in front of the country's most suspicious teenagers.

I ran past a small, slender girl, who had freckles peppered across her nose. She had pushed herself up against the roots of an enormous tree, her eyes darting suspiciously from side to side. If it weren't for her bright blue t-shirt, I wouldn't have noticed her. I kept moving and consciously decided to refrain from using my powers when I was this angry. Consequences would've been dire.

In the distance, the ectogun fired. Someone was out. Vlad's aim would prove to be too good for five consecutive campers, the dull _boom_ reverberating through the trees within moments of one another. There were twelve remaining.

 _Boom_

 _Boom_

 _Boom_

 _Boom_

 _Boom_

 _Boom_

Campers were dropping like flies- embarrassingly quickly. The sounds were getting closer. I took a moment to look back towards the field where we'd begun. Vlad had just found the girl in the blue t-shirt, zapping her from several feet away from her place behind the tree. He turned around swiftly after hearing the footfall of another camper, who I recognised as the wanker from the bus. Vlad fired with almost perfect aim.

 _Almost_ perfect.

The boy ducked swiftly, and continued to run in the opposite direction, weaving effortlessly through the pines. His companion, who had been only moments ahead, had caught the aftermath of the blazing ectoenergy, slamming into her shoulder. Her slight figure recoiled with the power of the blast, but frustration coloured her face.

I looked up after hearing a dull rustle in the canopy above me. The Australian-South African boy was poised perfectly on the edge of a branch and had sent a few twigs to the ground while readjusting his position. I knew for certain that Vlad's heightened senses would've heard it.

Surely enough, Vlad pivoted to find me like a sitting duck, momentarily distracted by the boy in the tree. Without even looking, he fired into the canopy

"Damn it!" The boy had been hit. Three remained.

Vlad smiled and I could've sworn his repulsive pointy teeth slipped through his lips. He took four long strides towards me, his shoulders squared in a show of seniority. I could've run but the temptation to mess with Plasmius overrode my senses. I crouched in anticipation for his attack, my eyes, which I'm sure were glowing green, welcoming the challenge that would follow. It'd been a long time since Vlad and I had a bout in human form.

He fired his weapon lazily, far too slow for my supernatural reactions. I ducked as the green ecto-energy flew over my head, charring the wood on the tree behind me. Vlad fired thrice more, one hurtling dangerously close to my arm.

"A bit out of practice are we?" I taunted.

Vlad's eyebrows furrowed in frustration, his temper weening.

A short, stumpy boy fumbled into the clearing, shock and fear flashing across his face as he witnessed the stand-off before him. His glasses fell from his face into the leaves that littered the ground, and he backed away slowly in the hope Vlad hadn't yet seen him.

He was, of course, wrong, and Vlad turned momentarily to shoot the boy squarely in the chest.

It had been the fleeting moment that I'd needed to formulate a plan.

I took off back towards the field, following the path that led to the sunlight. I was almost certain that the eliminated campers would be in the field, awaiting their winner. If I was correct, the tall blonde boy with the pony tail will have assumed he was the victor. After all, Vlad had fired at me four times.

I sprinted towards the field. I knew Vlad was right on my tail, I could hear his heavy footfall only moments behind me. I launched my body through the final tree line and dropped and rolled gracefully onto the ground only a foot or two in front of him.

Check-mate.

Vlad had too much momentum, I'd caught him entirely by surprise. He was trapped – there was no way he could use his powers to get him out of this one, the entire camp was watching. It was too late for him to jump.

He slammed into me, launching his body to the ground with the momentum. The ectogun flew out of his hands, landing only a few feet away. I almost laughed at the spectacle. What a rookie error. His desire to one-up me had led to his embarrassment.

I scrambled to get my hands on the ectogun as Vlad got back to his feet.

Success.

I held it steadily in my two hands, eyes focused on the tall blonde boy who had been standing only moments away, his eyes wide in realisation that he hadn't yet won. I took aim and fired. It made perfect contact with the teen, his rage evident across his face. He stamped his foot like a small child, his pony tail flicking back and forth.

I laughed and turned back to Vlad.

"Nice try, fruit loop."


	3. Chapter 3

I'd been deemed a legend by the majority of the campers after my stunt with Vlad. A large part of that afternoon had been spent reliving the challenge play-by-play from the differing perspectives of other campers over poorly prepared cafeteria lunches. I'd skyrocketed to the very top of the leaderboard within half an hour of my arrival – my plan to lie low had well and truly been abandoned.

We now sat unironically around a campfire, the smoke drifting high into the sky that bled of brilliant oranges and pinks. I was surprisingly pleased with myself, and Vlad's mysterious disappearance following his embarrassment this afternoon was the primary source of my good mood.

"Mate you were brilliant this afternoon," the guy who I'd spoken to before the challenge sat himself beside me, a leaf still caught in his thick brown hair, presumably from the forest floor. I'd decided he was definitely Australian. I laughed politely.

"Thanks man, it was good fun."

"That's for sure. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to introduce myself earlier. My name is Ashton, I'm from Australia."

He offered his large, friendly hand. I shook it firmly, my eyes meeting the warmth of his.

"Danny. Danny Fenton. From Amity Park."

A look of recognition dawned over Ashton's face.

"Oh man, that's America's most haunted city! No wonder you're so agile. I hear that you get ghost attacks all the time."

"Well you're not wrong," I sighed, "It's not exactly a peaceful place to live."

"Oh and isn't that Dumpty Humpty's hometown too? They're _sick._ "

I smiled and launched myself into a discussion of Dumpty Humpty's discography. This Ashton guy seemed like a real person and was yet to come across as ghost crazy like expected from the target demographic of this camp. I supposed he could've had an arsenal of weapons in his luggage. You never know.

As we were deep in conversation about the pros and cons of their third album, Peter reemerged on the far side of the campfire, carrying an excessively large bag of marshmallows.

"Hey campers! You guys have a really big day ahead of you tomorrow so we're gunna call it a night early this evening. We've popped your luggage into your cabins now so you'll be able to get settled in to your home for the next fortnight in a little bit – you'll find your name on the door of your cabin. But before we hit the sack, I thought it was time for a ghost story!"

Peter looked as though he was expecting at least a chuckle from the camp, but his delivery had been lacking. He continued, seemingly unphased by the unresponsiveness of his audience.

"So as you may, or may not know, this campground has been considered haunted since 1877. This site used to be your average family holiday spot, but every year a single child would go missing, only to be found several days later, dumped in the wilderness with no recollection of what had happened to them. Rumours spread like wildfire, each more radical than the last. But it was the most unlikely that held the truth. Ghosts."

I almost couldn't contain a snigger, this guy was a joke.

"The stories brought many first generation ghost hunters to the site but they were, for the most part, unsuccessful. Mostly because they tried to lure the specters with incense and other nonsense. But there was one man who managed to spot the culprit, Jimmy Cook, a historical legend as such. In fact, one of his descendants sits among us today, Miles."

Peter gestured across the circle, to the tall blonde boy with the impermeable scowl. He nodded slightly, the girl beside him looking up in admiration. It would seem this short girl did not leave his side. Her sleek black ponytail flicked annoyingly behind her as she moved her head, her eyes steadfast on her companion.

I made a mental note: this guy was business. Whether or not he had any ability himself, beyond his luck in today's challenge, he seemed like trouble. Also he always wore a fingerless glove on his left hand, and looked down upon all that attempted to strike up a conversation. What a twat.

The girl, on the other hand, didn't seem like too much trouble.

"The ghost was an enormous beast, a werewolf of sorts. Part human, part animal. It left its mark across the woods with claw scratches down the tree trunks, each of which glimmers a subtle green when the sun hits them just right. Jimmy may have seen the ghost, but he was never caught. After decades of abandonment, the Guys in White established a research centre here in the 60s as the legend made its way to the government organsiation. To this day they haven't found the ghost that haunted this place, but occasionally there are new signs the beast is back; sometimes we find a freshly charred section of the woods, and other times our ectoplasm detectors go crazy when there's nothing there. It's a mystery and we're eager to solve it.

But nothing to worry about campers, we've got the ghost shield to protect you!"

Peter grinned widely as he finished his story, finally seeming to take notice of the atmosphere around him. He had a habit of becoming consumed in his own world.

Two parts of the stories stayed with me. Firstly, was this ghost like Wulf? Were there more of his kind? Sure, this wasn't exceptionally important but interesting nonetheless. Secondly. Guys in White. I was unsurprised the incompetent fools were the initiative behind this camp. After that whole Gregor thing I'd tried, unsuccessfully, to avoid the inevitable mess they would create.

Danny Phantom _wasn't_ going to make an appearance, at least one visible to the human eye, so that wouldn't be an issue.

"Now, off to bed! Tomorrow will be a big one!"

The weary campers rose and turned towards the cabins that were visible across the campfire. The notion of allocated roommates made me nauseous. In fact, sleeping with anyone made me feel vulnerable. I was so used to being on edge as I slept that the presence of another felt threatening in itself. In the early days it was about the potential that I'd accidentally fall through the bed in a lapse of tangibility, but now it was a defensive mechanism. I'd like to say it was because Skulker had turned up one too many times, but no.

It was _Him_ haunting me in my dreams. My fate, my future. Sleep made me vulnerable to _Him._

I made small talk with my new Australian friend as we walked through the cabins, eagerly checking the lists on each door for our names.

We arrived at Cabin 12, to find Milosevich, Ashton listed against another boy I'd not met. Liu, Jason.

"Damn, Danny. I was really hoping we'd end up sharing. You're a top bloke. Catchya in the morning mate?" He smiled sadly.

"Yeah, of course. See you then."

I was frustrated too. He would've been my ticket into some kind peace of mind. I walked next door to Cabin 13.

"Fuck." I muttered under my breath. Murphy's Law, hey?

Clearly above Fenton, Daniel, was Cook, Miles.

I pushed my way inside the dank cabin to be greeted with concrete floors, an unassuming set of bunk beds, a cold, clinical bathroom and of course my exceptionally friendly and welcoming roommate, the blonde boy, Miles.

"Uh… hey man. Miles, is it?"

"Yeah. Miles, it says it on the door."

"Yeah cool."

Silence.

"You want the top bunk?" I ask, feigning some kind of interest.

"Whatever."

At least conversation would be at a minimal. I'd have to reveal the very least amount of detail about my personal life to this guy, and that suited me just fine.

An exceptionally long silence followed, and I pulled out my iPhone for the first time since the bus trip, to a barrage of messages from Tucker and Sam, and the occasional message of concern from Jazz. As I swiped to open them, he spoke.

"So how'd you trump Masters, _Danny._ " His tone was full of malice, "you know no one's ever beaten him, ever. He's been doing this for like, twenty years."

"I don't know; I was surprised to see him. I thought he was just some millionaire from Wisconsin. I guess I have good reflexes."

" _Good reflexes,"_ he snorted, "what a load of shit. You're hiding something."

"And you're not?"

"Touché, Mr. Fenton."

With that, there was nothing but silence for the rest of the night.

* * *

I grabbed the ring that was hanging in front of me, and propelled my body along the course, grabbing ring after ring with my worn hands like a child on the monkey bars. The height didn't phase me. I swung my body on to the platform and evaluated the next obstacle.

I reminded myself to refrain from moving with superhuman speed. These days I just moved without noticing, it was second nature. I'd noticed humans were sluggish. They watched on below, some watching the stopwatch rather than my progress. This was too fun.

I leapt across the unstable levitating platforms and grabbed hold of a rope, that swung me to the home stretch of the course. A wall, seemingly unsurmountable to many others, stood only moments ahead of me. I'd have to scale it in a natural way.

There were so many ways for me to get past the wall. It would've be so easy to simply walk through it, or fly over it. Hell, I could've even reduced it to ashes. But no. Human.

I ran at speed towards the wall, and gracefully mounted the face, propelling myself up and over, my arms carrying me with ease after years of practice. I landed on the other side to be greeted by three mechanical robots, programmed to be pests, easily fended off with a simple blow and roundhouse kick to the mechanical knee.

The final challenge lie ahead, an open pit of no less than four metres wide. At the bottom of a deep fall there was a ghost shield that doubled as a protective net. I knew for sure I did _not_ want to be burnt to a crisp by that shield. I'd seen most campers fall at this obstacle. To be fair, they hadn't been shocked with hundreds of volts of electricity as they weren't part ghost.

I took a few steps back and ran with purpose across the platform that swayed gently in the breeze, not taking even a moment to rest for stability. I launched myself over the pit and landed in a commando roll on the other side. With a final effort, I hauled myself off the ground and sprinted towards the timer, slamming my fist down on the red stop button.

Puffing slightly, I looked towards the ground where the rest of the campers were watching on. They looked tiny - the course was levitating three floors above the ground, after all. But I could see Plasmius' eyes flash a brilliant shade of angry magenta nonetheless. I pulled off the belt that had been zapping me the entire time.

He'd made us complete the course with the Specter Deflector – after all it was levitating beyond the ghost shield. He had wanted to see me fail.

I made my way down the ladder at the end of the course and looked up at the stopwatch.

1:54. Undoubtedly the fastest.

Damn it. I told myself that tomorrow I'd try a little harder to lie low. I couldn't show weakness in front of Plasmius, it was too demeaning.

I smirked at him as I walked past, his face displaying his fury without disguise. It was then that I heard _Him._

" _Being human_ is _a drag, isn't it Danny? You're_ so _much stronger as a ghost. You feed off this power, why not just embrace your future now? Embrace me."_

My face went white.


	4. Chapter 4

I should've left the challenge on a high, but rather _that_ voice threw my brain into a haze of anxiety and concern. I put on a brave face for my campmates as they had congratulated me following the challenge, but I was undeniably vulnerable.

And Vlad knew it.

We had spent enough time together to know each other's weaknesses, and while I knew he didn't have the ability to pinpoint the issue, he knew something was wrong. His face, scrunched in frustration at my victory, shifted to an evil curiosity as he noticed my change in demeanour.

The campers were redirected into the lunch hall after the conclusion of the challenge – which I had won, much to Miles' dismay. As I went to walk off towards the hall, Vlad's called to me, halting my feet in their tracks.

"Daniel my boy, may I have a moment?"

I turned to be greeted by his smug face – some of the other campers had stopped in the hope of listening to the conversation, to which Vlad moved them on with a flick of his wrist.

" _Sure,_ Mr. Masters." I said between barred teeth.

"That was quite a spectacular show, young Daniel,"

"Are you threatened, Plasmius?" I bit back.

"Oh no my boy, quite the opposite. Something's wrong with you and I know it. I think you know it too. You can put on a brave face all you like to these pathetic teenagers but you and I Daniel, we have history. As much as you hate to admit it, you and I have a great deal in common and I know when you show weakness," Vlad smiled, stepping closer as the rest of the campers disappeared inside the dining hall.

"You know nothing, Plasmius. I'm nothing like you and will never be. Now did you have anything else to say or are you done toying with me for today?"

"You see, that's where you're wrong. One day you'll realise and you'll come to me for help; for guidance. Creatures like us Daniel, crave power. We need it. When you finally realise you want it – I'll be waiting."

He turned his back and walked in the opposite direction to the hall, towards the forest edge, leaving my anger to burn inside.

* * *

My anger hadn't dissipated over the day – my brain was still alight with rage at Plasmius' entitled attitude.

The dank cabin was without a curtain on the window, and the moon illuminated everything inside with an eerie incandescent glow. Ironically, almost spectral. I lay flat on my back, hands on my stomach as they fell up and down in rhythm with my breathing. I stared blankly at the underside of the top bunk, my mind running in circles.

My thoughts were interrupted as my bunk buddy leapt down from the top bunk without use of the ladder, landing on the cold concrete floor with a _thud._ He shot me a look as if to say, _shut up, or I'll kill you,_ and he snuck out of the cabin, closing the door softly.

For a brief moment I lay silent in confusion – it was quite literally the middle of the night. I knew this kid meant trouble, but probably not for me. I knew I could probably take him in an instant.

Eventually, I drifted off to sleep and even in my broken slumber I wasn't alerted to Miles' return.

* * *

The next morning, after an uninspiring bowl of cereal, the campers were guided into a large warehouse, non-descript from the outside but a glaring white on the inside. It was almost clinical, with clean white tiles and walls painted without imperfection. A number of crates were piled along the walls.

We were all seated on a row of silver seats – a welcome change from the usual log for most. There was an excited chatter around today's activity. Ashton beside me was trailing off into a discussion on his vivid dream about the camp's wolf ghost.

But I wasn't listening. I couldn't help but identify the clinical nature of this place. It screamed GIW and that wasn't a good sign. For me, anyway.

"Campers! Good morning and welcome to The Warehouse! This is where the magic really happens, where your training comes to fruition and you get hands on experience at ghost fighting. Please don't be fearful, this is an entirely controlled environment." Peter gleamed.

He obviously knew a number of campers were about to get absolutely annihilated. They'd taken us all through the basics of ghost hunting equipment for several hours over the last two afternoons. During target practice yesterday, one of the campers had misfired an ectogun and ended up singeing a large amount of hair. It had been embarrassing to watch. While their technology was slightly different to the Fenton products I was used to, it was fundamentally the same.

"Today, in pairs, you will come face-to-face with your first ghost!"

The campers gasped – many in excitement, others in fear.

"Now no need to be alarmed, the spectres most of you will be up against are what we call _Grade One._ This means that they're weak, and usually exhbit minimal brain power. It's their primal instinct to attack anything they detect with a pulse, so you guys are public enemy number one.

"We've zapped these bad boys of their energy, so they're operating at about 60% of normal capacity – so you guys have a definitive advantage. This challenge is more so to determine who will keep their cool under pressure."

Peter continued; "Some of the campers have shown a certain _flair_ for the profession, and based on the leader board we'll be assigning partners from each end to keep things fair – so first place will enter the ring with last place and so on. Pairs sitting in the middle of the leaderboard should use this as a method of propelling upwards, and those at the bottom can leverage the strength of their partners."

After Peter's words I couldn't really care what happened next – I was just thankful I wasn't going to be paired with Miles. He was a wanker.

I knew it was going to be easy to fight off whatever ghost they assigned me, but that wasn't the issue at hand. Once again, lying low was going to be an issue – especially in a confined environment with an incompetent camper. I'd have to put my partner in the spotlight. This challenge was also a sign of things to come – if they were putting ghosts in front of some of these clumsy kids on Day 3, I wasn't too sure I'd like the looks of lying low on Day 14.

Last place on the leaderboard was Esther. She was a very short, stumpy and bespectacled young woman who wore overalls every day as if she were twelve. I wasn't entirely sure what she was doing at the Spectre Centre – she didn't have a ghost hunting background and wasn't particularly physically gifted. We hadn't spoken yet, so I shot her a warm smile from across the room.

Peter interrupted my train of thought; "Now you'll have three minutes in the challenge zone to weaken and capture your ghost. The quicker you do so, the more points you will earn, and you'll earn even points to your partner – so work together! Take a minute to strategize with your buddy and we'll get this set up for the first team".

As the rest of the campers rushed to their partners, Esther remained stiff on the seat, her eyes full of pained emotion. I walked over, opening my mouth to speak, when she beat me to it.

"Danny, I'm sorry. I'll really fuck up your ranking,"

I held back a laugh. If only she knew.

"No, no, Esther it's fine. We'll just give it a crack. Listen, how about you do the capturing? I'll land the shots and weaken the ghost and when I say, you hit suck on that contraption?

Her hands trembled as she picked up the Spectre Sucker, a blatant rip-off of the Fenton Thermos.

"Sure thing," Esther muttered, her tone full of uncertainty.

Before long, most of the teams had their time in the challenge zone. From what I had seen, the ghosts weren't uniform and looked as though they had been haphazardly collected – most likely from the GIW thermos archives. They didn't speak to the participants, and most didn't even attack. They were sluggish and weak, and their ectoplasmic glow was dull. I wasn't even sure we'd need to zap them to suck them into the Tupperware.

To be fair, most of the campers were still scared shitless. Even some of the top-ranking campers fumbled with their equipment and froze up when thrust into the challenge zone. It was _almost_ amusing. Miles was zapped by his partner's ecto-gun in a challenge against a ghost who didn't launch a single ecto-attack.

Esther and I were called to the glass entry zone to be greeted by Peter who, rather rudely, spoke as though Esther wasn't there.

"Danny! We've given you one of the more powerful ghosts so you could really put on a show – ya know, show the campers how it's done!"

"Great, thanks Peter." My retort was dripping with sarcasm that wasn't properly received by Peter.

"You're welcome!" Peter shut the heavy glass door behind him, returning to join the campers.

I looked sympathetically to Esther, my eyes apologetic. I opened my mouth as if to comfort her, when a loud _whoosh_ and a rush of cold air entered the chamber. My head snapped to attention, my breath suddenly visible in front of me. I turned to face the ghost that I knew I'd be fighting today, with the cool metal of an ecto-gun at the ready in my hands.

"Oh, fuck," I gasped, my eyes registering the weak spectre that was floating in front of me, hunched over, yet to look towards his opponents.

Despite my initial reaction, the ghost was almost unrecognisable – only a skeleton of his former self, with overalls that hung from his sickly frame. His skin was a dull grey, and there was barely a ghostly aura around his figure.

He spoke with an almost undistinguishable rasp as he struggled to acquire the strength to raise his head: "I am… the… Box Ghost –"

His eyes locked with mine, and a look of recognition flashed across his face. Maybe desperation? His eyes were blank, devoid of colour or light. His face was gaunt and his eye bags were frightening – for a ghost. He slowly glanced around the room, fixated on the enthralled campers beyond the thick glass wall. His usual exuberance was gone, replaced with a mere shell of his former self. It was wrong.

My brain was going at a million miles an hour trying to work out what to do. I had all but forgotten about my partner.

"Phan-" He begun.

I snapped into action, firing a perfectly aimed shot, landing square in his fragile chest. The blast thrust him into the far wall, crashing into the stark white tiles with force. The guilt washed over me like a wave. He was vulnerable and entirely unable to launch an attack of his own.

I walked calmly over to his body that lay crumpled on the floor, a frightened Esther gripping my forearm with fear.

I raised the ecto-gun once more. I knew I had to end this before he revealed me.

"Please, halfa. Please have mercy. Save me." He whispered barely loud enough for his words to reach my ears, conjuring an energy shield and boxing himself behind it.

I blasted the shield, feigning ignorance at its purpose, and the blast ricocheted around the walls. I knew sympathy was plastered across my face.

I thought back to the many times I had fought this ghost – many while I was still incompetent and learning myself. I remembered many times where I had found the ghost in front of me frightening, even intimidating. My fourteen-year-old self would've considered the Box Ghost a primary enemy, worthy of far more than relegation back to the Ghost Zone via a Fenton Thermos.

Over the years, I had grown older and stronger, but the Box Ghost was a reminder of my beginnings. In the recent months I had come to a decision that I needed to pick my battles and have mercy on the somewhat _good_ ghosts – annoying, but fundamentally _not evil_. I wanted to be a hero to those who needed it, and not a ghost hunter for superfluous reasons. The Box Ghost was never going to hurt anyone, rearrange your garage, sure, but never cause malicious pain. The memories of battles against this ghost weren't filled with physical pain, but rather with a warm nostalgia of a place from the past.

I had come to a conclusion that there was to be a mutual respect, some humanity involved in ghost hunting as a halfa.

A respect, of sorts. I was, almost, one of them.

The words slipped out of my mouth; "You're done, ghost," but my eyes pleaded and screamed sorry.

He hung his head in understanding and removed his shield.

I aimed the gun at his chest and fired.

"Esther," I said softly, prompting her to suck in the shadow of the ghost that lay before me.


End file.
